


Homeward Bound

by pudding_bretzel



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: (It's Talia), Amnesia, Angst, Baby Damian Wayne, Character Death, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, On the Run, One Shot, Returning Home, even if Jay and Dami don't know that yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25844773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pudding_bretzel/pseuds/pudding_bretzel
Summary: “Red!” A small hand suddenly smacks his cheek. He looks down at the perpetrator with tired eyes. The glow and life he finds looking back at him from those curious green eyes elicits a smile he didn’t know he still has the strength to give. He lifts a trembling hand and starts patting the little one’s head, ruffling the small tuft of hair.“Almost there, Dami.”Or: Jason made a promise to Talia in her dying moments. He would keep the little one safe, no matter what. Even at the cost of his own life.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 23
Kudos: 533





	Homeward Bound

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm really late to the party with this one, but I wanted to write something about YJ!Jason and Baby Damian for a really long time and I never managed to find the right words until now.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It hurts. Every step, every breath feels like fire igniting his nerves and setting his body aflame. Just one moment. Maybe he can allow himself to stop for just one small moment and breathe. Inhale that lovely elixir of life, even if it burns as it rushes down into his lungs.

But he can’t. If he stops, they might catch up. If he stops, the little one is in danger. 

If he stops, it was all for nothing. 

So he doesn’t. No matter how much his broken body yearns for it. He’s had worse, after all. At least he thinks so? It all feels like a blur at the moment, to be honest. All the years kneeling, obeying, fighting, training, watching, caring and not knowing _anything_. It’s all a blur of numbness as he looks back. Nonsensical actions for the sole purpose of being. To tell himself – or maybe everyone else? – that he’s really there. That he’s _alive_.

In times like these, he curses his damned brain more than ever. When the missing pieces could very well mean his own and the little one’s survival. 

But that’s not how life works for him. For all that he _doesn’t_ know, this is a certainty he will never forget. 

Life isn’t easy. It’s just a row of incidents, some of them his doing, some of them others. His only chance is to try and survive them, get stronger _because of them_.

The little one squirms in his sling, chubby hands curling into the red fabric of his uniform. He needs to get rid of it. It’s too colorful, too conspicuous. The people have been eyeing them curiously for a while now, watching his bloodied uniform with wariness, interest or concern. 

None of those are good reactions. The people won’t forget him and the little one anytime soon, leaving a trail for them to follow. 

...For _who_ to follow?

He shakes his head vigorously. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that they need to get away, before the demon catches them. They already left behind their burning home, there’s not much more they can lose. Except maybe each other, but he won’t let that happen. 

Even if that means he has to get rid of his uniform, despite the safety the feeling of the sturdy kevlar and the weight of the knifes on his body give him. 

He looks down when the small hands tug at the fabric, accompanied by a muffled squeal. A small face adorned with bright green eyes looks back at him, the for him usual, yet for a babe so unusual frown set in-place.

“Red.” Though easily discernible as his name, due to hearing the word almost thirty times a day, the word is garbled in a hopefully normal way for a toddler of almost two years. He isn’t sure if the little one’s behavior and speech is normal, after all he doesn’t have anything to compare it too. But Talia always was rather fond of them, so it can’t be bad, surely.

 _Talia_. 

The name burns in his head just as bad as the sting behind his eyes that always accompanies the memory of the woman. One of the many reasons why he avoids thinking of her. 

It hurts too much remembering her brown waves of hair and the way her emerald eyes would soften when she looked at the two of them without the demon noticing. The way her calloused hands would softly caress his hair. Her voice rings in his head as she reads the little one another story, though they both know she does it for himself just as much as the babe. The way her voice lulls him to sleep. The way her dying screams of pain and fear are burnt into his mind, tearing at his ears and-

_Stop._

_Stop thinking, keep running_. He can’t afford to lose even more time to the maze of thoughts in his memory full of holes.

He isn’t sure why or from what he’s running, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. Every inch of him is pushing him to get away. Away from that place, away from that man.

And so he will. He’ll do everything in his power so that the little one is safe. Where that is he doesn’t know but there’s one person who can show him, hopefully. The only person he’s ever seen getting away from the demon was the man with the blue bird emblazoned on his chest. 

Grayson. 

Just like before the name sparks something in him. A feeling he can’t quite grasp but it tingles in his fingers and toes, fueling him to go onwards. The name spreads a warmth inside that feels like he’s engulfed in an embrace. An embrace full of love and calm where he can rest without fear of more pain. Somewhere he can feel safe.

 _He misguided you once and look where that brought us_.

But he won’t listen to the poisonous words. For how can a feeling as pure and familiar as this one lead him astray? It’s his only signpost in a world he’s never set foot in before. If this one won’t lead them to safety then nothing will. Because there’s nothing else there. Not anymore. 

Not without Talia.

His arms curl around the little one, no, Damian – he can’t forget the name, there’s no one left to remember it with fondness beside him – and allows himself the short moment of reprieve. That small moment needed to breathe despite the heavy weight he feels on his shoulders. It’ll be a long while until he can rid himself off it completely, so instead he revels in this brief moment of weightlessness.

 _But not too long_ , he reminds himself. Too long and he won’t remember their goal. Too long and everything he needs to make it will be lost in the fog of his mind and he’ll be lost in the grief – condemning them both to the wrath of the demon.

So after one last moment soaking in the calm he acquired, he resumes his tiring journey. He continues walking, no matter what stands in their way. Even as his wounds start festering and new ones join them as he barely manages to escape again and again and again he continues. He won’t give up. He can’t. 

He made a promise after all. A promise to survive and get the little one to safety.

It’s the most important part of his promise. His own safety feels secondary. His survival as well. As long as Damian lives, it all had a reason. Their defection. The destruction of their home. Talia’s sacrifice.

* * *

The moment he first sets foot on the ground of San Francisco’s busy streets there’s a myriad of feelings swirling in his gut. Joy for finally reaching their goal. Trepidation for the possibility of being turned down. Curiosity for what he’ll find. Salvation? Rejection? Maybe the information he found about Grayson and the group he’s working with is wrong. Maybe he should have gone to New Jersey instead, follow the other trail he found. Maybe-

He’s ripped from his thoughts by the piercing pain in his back and legs and arms and... his body in general, which feels like a giant bruise that’s been run over by a bus twice. The worst by far though has to be the cut on his back he received from the demon’s assassins.

They’d barely made it to the airport after their fight and managed to blend in with the other passengers through sheer luck. During the flight he tried to clean and dress the wound as best as possible, but with it being on his back and no option to ask for help without drawing even more attention to themselves, he had to make do with the tools available. 

It’s a mystery even to himself how they escaped the assassins. Their sheer numbers and the surprise attack had him in the defensive most of the time. Their hits were precise and pushed him back, adding wound upon wound to his body. It had been beyond frustrating, knowing that he’d beaten every single one of them during his training, but was powerless against their combined power now. In the end he didn’t have another choice but to run to safe the both of them. Not if he wanted them both to live.

He still hated it. 

“Red!” A small hand suddenly smacks his cheek. He looks down at the perpetrator with tired eyes. The glow and life he finds looking back at him from those curious green eyes elicits a smile he didn’t know he still has the strength to give. He lifts a trembling hand and starts patting the little one’s head, ruffling the small tuft of hair.

“Almost there, Dami,” he whispers, despite knowing full well that Damian knows this by now. He’s been telling the boy so for the past forty-eight hours after all. 

It’s only a little while longer until Damian is safe. Until he _finally_ fulfilled his promise. Then he can stop and...

And what?

It’s a question he’s often been thinking about since their defection. His sole purpose is to bring Damian to safety, to Grayson. It’s all he’s been focusing on for the past weeks and now that he’s almost there, he feels lost and... scared.

Scared of losing his purpose. Of not knowing what to do next. Of losing Damian.

Of being alone again. 

He hates to admit it, but he’s grown attached to the little one. Damian’s been almost permanently attached to his stomach or back with the baby sling, babbling on and on. Keeping him company. Reminding him that he’s not alone and that he can’t give up. 

Not yet.

He’s not sure he’s ready to say goodbye.

He let’s out a sigh and slips a finger into the immediately tightening grasp of Damian’s small hand before forcing himself to move onward. His goal is clear ahead of him, towering high over the San Francisco skyline like a beacon, yet still so impossibly far away. 

His feet drag over the asphalt, carrying him closer and closer, despite his continuously fading vision. His whole body feels frail, his limbs trembling with every movement. It’s been getting worse in the last few hours and he’s pretty sure the wound on his back is infected by now. It stings with every breath he takes, as if the knife is still lodged in the wound. Yet he tries his best to not let it show. It would frighten Damian too much after all. He learned the hard way that the boy did not like seeing him hiss in pain or even worse, unconscious. The little one’s wails have often been their downfall when in hiding, alerting their pursuers to their location and often ending with Jason covered in even more wounds.

It’s an endless cycle of pain, tears and frustration. 

But he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. Not with their destination right in front of their noses. 

There’s a pressure on his shoulder suddenly and pain flashes through his body. The air escapes his lungs and with a shudder he sinks to his knees. Clenching his eyes shut, he tries desperately to calm down, drown out the white noise rushing in his ears. There’s a hushed “’scuse me” somewhere in the chaos of San Francisco’s busy afternoon streets. He can feel the people busying past his crumpled form, Damian starting to fuss in his sling. The noise builds up, getting louder and louder, blending together with the white noise and his head feels like it’s about to explode. 

His back feels like it’s splitting in two from the pain, his legs won’t move anymore. His throbbing limbs curl around Damian in a desperate act to ground himself in reality. He can’t pass out here. Not this close.

 _Make it stop_!

“Hey, are you okay?” A soft touch to his back. The words barely register to him through the fog. He forces his eyes open and barely makes out the figure kneeling next to him. Murmurs all around him and so many shadows peering down at him. He doesn’t know where he is, or why they’re all staring at him, but he needs them to stop. His head is all foggy and he can’t _remember_.

The person – no, teen – next to him speaks again, but the sound doesn’t reach his ears. He squints back at them, making out the hint of green in their skin and wide emerald eyes staring back at him.

There’s a single thought that comes to the front of his mind then. His tongue heavy and uncooperative in his mouth barely forms the word before he sees nothing but black.

“Grayson.”

* * *

When he first regains consciousness, he’s welcomed to the world by pain and heat.

There are sounds all around him, confusing and loud. People are talking, he slowly realizes. His mind is still sluggish and the words don’t make any sense to him. There’s one sound though that pierces through the chaos and grabs his attention. 

A piercing wail. 

_Damian_.

His eyes snap open, adrenaline rushing through his body at the sound of the boy’s distressed cries. Blinding white light floods his vision and he gasps at the sudden pain in his eyes. He frantically searches the room – it’s white and bright and why are there so many people – but he can’t find Damian. 

He tries to push himself up, get off this table – a bed, it’s a bed – and find the boy, but there are hands stopping him. They push him back down and hold him there. He’s too weak to fight them and instead tries to call out for the little one.

But instead of getting louder, the cries grow fainter by the second. 

No!

Why are they taking Damian away? He’s almost there – where? – so close. They can’t take him, not now. Not ever! He’s not ready!

There’s a pricking pain in his left arm and he feels his mind slow down. The shadows around him melt together with the harsh white of the room. The sluggishness from before returns and he slowly fades back into the darkness.

The second time he wakes there’s silence around him. He’s confused, not remembering where he is or why. As he takes a deep breath he feels something soft covering his chest. It feels nice, just like the softness beneath his throbbing head or the soothing strokes he feels in his hair.

He wonders who is with him, where he is and what happened, but his mind is too tired to act on his command. The warmth surrounding him is too soothing, lulling him into a sense of calm that he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. 

Somewhere, deep down, he thinks there’s something important he should be doing. He feels there’s someone he needs to protect who isn’t here, but he doesn’t know who. He can’t think. 

The fingers in his hair have a trance-like effect on him, as if he’s been here before. Right here with this same person next to him. Except that doesn’t make any sense. He’s pretty sure he’s never been here before. Only he’s still not quite sure where here actually is and.... and...

There’s a soft murmur he can’t decipher as the caressing continues. His mind feels heavy and he eventually succumbs to the strong pull of sleep.

The third time he wakes, there are voices around him. While that alone is nothing new, he’s surprised to find that he can understand them. Well, he can understand their words. The things they’re saying don’t really make any sense to him.

“-hide in here forever, you know?” A voice says, warm and soothing. It’s a nice voice, he likes it. It almost sounds familiar.

“I’m not-“ says another, much deeper and much more severe voice. This one he knows without a doubt. It’s the person he’s been searching for, for so long. The person he tried to find for so many weeks, if not months.

“Dick.” Grayson. The first voice sounds exasperated now. “What are you trying to achieve by keeping this to yourself? Gar already knows and the others aren’t as blind as you apparently think they are. For all we know, Bruce already knows and is on his way here as we speak.”

The names sound familiar, somehow, but instead of holding on to their familiarity and searching for answers, he keeps his attention on Grayson. The man’s voice sounds different from the last time he heard it. Back then it was cockier, more confident and stronger. It was the reason he sought the man out in the first place. He’d been sure Grayson would be able to help him hide Damian.

 _Damian_.

His eyes part, too slow for his liking, but he finally leaves the darkness he welcomed for far too long behind and looks up at a dark ceiling. He expected the blinding white from before, but apparently they moved him. Or he hallucinated. Could be either.

“I just... I...,” There’s a soft sigh to his left. He turns his head, mindful of his aching body. But instead of Grayson he sees a blue cape and the back of a head full of short auburn hair. The person standing before Grayson slowly moves, the rustling of fabric the only indication they do so.

“Dick,” he doesn’t see what they’re doing, but there’s a hesitation in their voice. For a moment he’s unsure if they’ll continue, not that he cares very much. His only concern is Damian and a quick survey of the room makes his stomach clench uncomfortably. He’s not here.

“I-” The caped person begins, but their words halt abruptly. In a whirl of fabric they turn around and wide brown eyes look directly back at his. He feels overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of their – no, he’s fairly sure that’s a _her_ – stare and instead lets his eyes wander to the person behind her. Grayson is leaning forward, his eyes equally wide as hers, but not as intense. 

He’s unsure how he should react to the two of them, still staring at him, but his focus is quickly diverted to the small bundle currently situated in Grayson’s lap. 

Before his body can prepare, he lurches forward, reaching out for the boy. It’s the biggest mistake he’s made since he left Damian alone in the mountains to look for food. He almost lost him back then.

At least this time the only one who has to pay for his mistake is himself. His body flares with pain and a strangled scream tears from his throat. Now lying on his side, he curls into a small ball waiting for the pain to abate or maybe ride it out. Neither of those happen, as his current position pulls at his back and reminds him of the blasted wound he sustained there. His ribs scream at him in protest. There are hands on him once more and he’s suddenly reminded of the first time he woke up. They kept him from Damian once, he won’t allow it again.

“Jason, calm down!” The voice is drowned out by a sudden high-pitched wail. A wail he could pick out from anywhere.

He tries to shake off the hands pushing him back onto his back, tries to reach for Damian again, but only manages to tear another scream from his throat. Damian answers with a cry of his own before his world fades into white hot pain for what feels like an eternity. He tries to breathe despite the agony and surprisingly, with every shallow breath the pain recedes.

Slowly, oh so achingly slowly, the world comes back to him. When he finally dares to move again he feels a tugging at his arm and realizes with a quick glance that there’s an IV in his arm. Huh, so that’s why the pain lessened. 

He turns his gaze back up to where Grayson was sitting before, where Damian was sleeping – _screaming_ – only moments ago.

To his surprise the screaming has stopped and Damian is once again fast asleep. He must’ve been out of it for longer than he thought. Grayson is watching the boy with a soft expression and the girl from before is nowhere to be found. 

He tries to speak but only manages a soft groan that immediately catches Grayson’s attention. 

Those bright blue eyes look back up at him, just as wide as before and just as soothing. He sits forward in his chair, mindful of Damian still in his lap and lets a soft smile splay on his face. 

“Jason?” The name is tinged with desperation, hope and pain. A lot of pain. It has no meaning to him, aside of confusing him. Unsure of what to do with it, he ignores the name and instead reaches out towards Damian with a weak hand.

“Please,” he croaks, his throat burning from disuse and his screaming from earlier. His tongue feels heavy and numb in his mouth – courtesy of the sedatives. Grayson understands him anyway, a flash of hurt passing his features before he leans forward and deposits Damian between his left arm and side. The boy snuggles down immediately and despite the slight pain the boy’s movements cause in his side, he couldn’t be happier. 

Slinging his arm around Damian’s small body he watches his peaceful slumber for a moment. No more fear of being caught. No more fear of failing Talia. They made it. Damian is safe now. And he's still right there. He doesn’t need to say goodbye. Not yet, at least.

He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the peace and calm. Whatever happens to himself now is irrelevant. As long as Damian is safe, it’ll be okay. 

“Jason?” 

Again, that name. There’s more behind it, he feels it. Just like he felt a certain sense of familiarity with the woman from earlier. But those things can wait, he decides. 

He looks at Grayson once more. The man who saved them and will protect them from the demon’s wrath. He’s looking at them with that same sad expression, watching their interaction intently. 

Now that he thinks about it, he should probably explain himself. Why he’s here and who they are. With Damian in his arms and Grayson next to him, he suddenly feels a rush of confidence fill him. A confidence he hasn’t felt since they left Infinity Island. Since Talia died. 

Despite the rasp in his voice and the heaviness of his tongue, he wills it to work a second time.

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that's that. Not really happy with the ending there, but after working on it for the past half an hour it's the best it's gonna get for now. I hope you liked it anyway :D  
> I would love to write more of this, but Young Justice has just too many characters and while I know I don't have to include them all, the sheer amount still makes me hesitate to touch that fandom and try to write a longer story than this. I really don't want to butcher some of the characters just because I don't know anything about them. Maybe one day, when I have the time and motivation to dive deeper into the Young Justice characters I'll write more, but for now this is all. 
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://pudding-bretzel.tumblr.com/).


End file.
